


Peter, You little shit.

by JustPlainAmy



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Teen Wolf, exept the fact that Peter is a little shit, please leave prompts in the comment section, sterek, there will be a lot of these with no cohesive story line
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 07:46:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustPlainAmy/pseuds/JustPlainAmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teen wolf drabbles that involve multiply stories and plots that all end in one thing, Peter being a smirky, mischievous bastard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Even when Peter's helpful he makes an effort to be an asshole

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this will be somewhat of a never ending project. Please comment with one word prompts and possible pairings to go with it. Because this will continue for however long I receive comments/prompts.

Fuck Peter. Just- Just fuck peter.

That’s all really Isaac could think as a small bottle of chocolate flavored K/Y lube fell out of his jacket pocket along with a hand full of condoms.

He was going to kill Peter.

Again.

Peter had found him shivering at the apartment cocooned in blankets and his only ratty winter coat, gave a snort of disgust and ghosted back out of the room. Only to return less than an hour later to toss a warm looking jacket, scarf and a sturdy pair of boots onto his lap. He had been so grateful, he had just thrown them on before getting up and running after Derek and Scott. Even going so far as to ignore the evil little smirk on Peter’s face.

So now he was here giving a hug to a relieved and a little shell shocked looking Allison as the creepy sexual merchandise that he most certainly did not buy fell out of his new jacket and onto the parking lot. Maybe if he ignored it Allison wouldn’t notice-Fuck. She noticed if the laugh that seemed to startle out of her meant anything.

Okay that might have been because he just loudly said “Fucking Peter" several times, but what are you going to do? as she laughed he could feel the embarrassment that was curled in his belly make his cheeks and neck ruddy with a blush. She laughed at him again, probably for the blush before going up on her toes and kissing his cheek.

The red of his cheeks deepened.

She only patted his head affectionately before sashaying away with those perfect hips swaying and-

Fuck. Just Fuck.

Fucking Peter.


	2. get your own room Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tickeling

Stiles was ticklish as hell and everyone apparently knew it, Erica who had apparently discovered a new found fascination to bringing him to his knew laughing with a small pinch to his side. Scott who used the knowledge ruthlessly to get choosing rights for whichever video game they played. And now Derek knew…. He was so fucking screwed….

He had been confidant for a while that Scott and Erica hadn’t told anyone about his ticklishness until one night he was bantering back and forth with Derek trying to convince the caveman to rebuild more than two rooms in the house…. And when it looked like Derek was running out of points to make. 

He. Fucking. Pounced.

It happened faster than Stiles could register, so before he knew it he was pinned to the overlarge black leather couch with one of Derek’s hands restraining him while the other danced over his sides making Stiles curse splutter and laugh as he attempted to tell Derek that he would kill him if he didn’t stop. And then when all of a sudden it did stop, and Stiles was able to open his eyes now he wasn’t being tickled with an inch of his life. And guess what, Derek’s face was literally two inches from his own as the older man stared down at Stiles his gaze calculating and cautious as if gauging his reaction. 

Then after about three second of staring at each other Derek leaned forward and kissed him…. Effectively wiping Stile’s usually high functioning brain. Fast. Stunningly Quick.To be short, it was amazing, but nothing he ever thought kissing Derek would be. This was nothing like all of the hot I’ll-throw-you-against-a-wall-and-you’ll-like-it kind of kiss he throughout about a little. Okay a lot. But this was sweet soft and tentative every bit like an awkward teenage like first kiss. And it was fucking perfect. 

As the kisses became messier, the awkwardness faded and so had the tentativeness and Derek’s tongue licking into his mouth was probably the catalyst for that situation. It took all of a second before Stiles was eagerly responding to the depended kissing, opening his mouth for easier access a greedy little moan escaping his mouth as long fingers curled tighter into the leather of Derek’s jacket. Completely awesome. Or at least it was until he heard Scott, make an extremely unmanly noise accompanied by the sound of feet running out of the room while screaming “my eyes” , Peter just laughed and threw a pillow at them.

“Get a room, before Scott has to see a shrink” Peter called out smoothly before following Scott out the front door.

That was it, the moment was ruined. And the funny thing was that he couldn’t stop the giggles emanating from his chest, Derek eventually joining in. Releasing quiet mirth filled chuckles against the crook of stiles neck where he was currently nosing; Stiles could feel the smile against his neck.


	3. Peter some things are sacred, like a man's favorite hoodie (Or rather where Peter is a meddlesome Bastard and ships sterek)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Angst and birthdays

It was days like today that he was glad that no one ever really bothered to visit the tiny cemetery where mom was buried. Because honestly it would get kind of awkward if someone had found him there sitting in front of the marble gravestone as he had whole conversations with his dead mom. 

He told himself that it was normal, that it was okay to do this and grieve and it totally wasn’t a creepy ass “I See Dead people" moment but it had been almost 5 years since he lost her and it wasn't getting any better. Not that gaping hole in his chest, unable to fill its gaping maw no matter how hard he tried. He definitely couldn’t replace that huge part that his mom used to fit perfectly into.

Though it had become a routine, sneak out, chat with dead mom, occasionally leave daffodils, so on. Today unfortunately was infinitely worse; he had been a mess unable to focus at school at all despite his Adderall. Dad had taken the day off and told Stiles not to wait up for him, which was Dad-speak for “I’m going to the bar and I’m going to drink until I pass out”. And he could handle that he really could, and he could also handle was all his wolfie friends giving him looks that ranged from concerned to baffled. Even if he didn’t appreciate it all that much. He knew that they probably had some idea of how, how dead and empty he was feeling. They honestly shouldn’t have been surprised when he finally snapped and mentioned it, because seriously if wolves could smell fear (Definitely mentioned before, fucking Peter) they would probably smell a whole lot of other things.

He could also shrug off most of those too, ignore them as much as possible and try to act at least semi-normal. But what he was really, really not ok with was at the pack meeting his hoodie had disappeared and then they all left him alone. The bastards. Now if he could only find the fucking thing before- Shit. Out of freaken nowhere Derek has him pinned against the wall. Again seriously this guy enjoyed throwing him around way too much to be fucking healthy. And he was in no mood tonight to being cornered and chewed about something that was probably not his fault at all. So he just made an attempt at shoving the alpha off, hoping more that he would get the point than any effort to free himself physically.

“Come on Derek get the hell off, I need to go home, Dad’s expecting me early” The lie fell easily from his lips and he only had a second to curse himself when Derek’s ever present frown deepened. Right… built in lie detectors….

“What happened” It was more a statement not really a question, and may he just say fuck that very much. Though that was probably the closest thing Stiles thinks that he ever heard Derek to being kind. Maybe he should tell him what was up. At least that way maybe he could guilt Derek into letting go of the death grip he had on Stiles T-shirt. Trying one last vain attempt to get free he just sighed and stared at the door pointedly not making eye contact.

“Today is my mom’s birthday, now if you’ll release me Mr. grabby I have to go” This time when he squirmed in his grip Derek let go and Stiles couldn’t bring himself to look back, maybe feeling a little guilty for shoving his shit on Derek but whatever, he couldn’t take it back now and at least it had worked. So he moved into the chilly night air forgoing his beloved hoodie completely as he started the jeep, heading straight up to the cemetery. 

And now he was here holding a daffodil; his mom’s favorite flower as he sat in front of his mom’s grave trying to wish her happy birthday, a creepy ass kid standing in a grave yard in the complete dark. He wanted to cry but he felt just as empty as ever, seeing her name magnified the effect enough that it was echoing inside him. This eventually sent him eventually to his knees. He thanked god no one was there because he was sure he wouldn’t be able to handle the pity. 

That was until he felt warmth engulf his shoulders; he whipped around to stare up at Derek who had apparently followed him. The creepy fucker had his red hoodie fisted in one hand. He took a quick second to pull himself together, all of a sudden feeling very, very tired. He couldn’t really pretend to be okay not now.

“Leave?” his voice sounding strained even to him as he went back to staring at him mom’s gravestone trying not to feel disappointed when he didn’t hear anything, assuming that Derek had per his command. He was really fucked up. Not to mention the fact it was really fucking cold and despite his sweatshirt he was still pretty cold, ignoring it even as small shivers traveled the length of his spine. 

And before Stiles tired brain could register what was happening or that Derek hadn’t left at all was that a very large way body was doing its best to wrap around stiles. He didn’t even have the energy to protest more than a squeaky sounding yell of surprise as the alpha settled Stiles back against chest one of his hands had taken one of stiles in his and was rubbing slow circles on the back of it. And to be honest he knew he should probably be freaking out yelling something but he couldn’t bring himself to it he just looked over his shoulder at Derek lifting a single questioning eyebrow.

 

“Shut up Stiles” Those familiar words made the younger of the two smiles despite how empty he had been feeling.

 

At this point he was just tired and worn out, and he honestly didn’t want to go home and smell the bourbon that was bound to reek off his dad. So he just slowly fell asleep against Derek’s chest receiving a small kiss to his hair for it. Before Derek promptly lifted him and carried him to his Camaro gently depositing him in the passenger seat and before he knew he was back at the Hale’s house while Derek picked him up again with disturbing ease. They ended upstairs on the queen mattress laying side by side in the dark underneath the massive weight of quilts that had Derek produced from nowhere for the shivering teenager. They stayed there staring up into the dark ceiling sharing quiet happy memories of both their moms well into the night. They fell asleep like that cuddled on the mattress offering the comforting contact that both of them needed but neither would admit to needing.

Peter himself was extremely pleased while sitting downstairs listening to the faint whisper of his nephew getting a little bit of closure and helping the brat Stiles. Especially so as he eyed the bookcase he had shoved Stile’s Hoodie behind only hours ago.


	4. Little red riding hood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt :Violence/ Little red riding hood

Today was going to be awesome. Or at least Stiles hoped it would be. Today he was going to make amazingly mouth watering spaghetti and babble on about the new Batman movie or something while Derek played the role of new boyfriend as his father plotted against him from across the table, trying to subtly hint that, if he even entertained the thought of breaking Stiles' heart, he had a gun and was willing to use it. 

At least that's what his hyperactive brain contemplated was going to happen. He just hoped he could save Derek from being dragged off and threatened with a pair of handcuffs since Stiles' was technically still a minor for a few more weeks...

But he could not continue to think about that right now. Slipping into his favorite red hoodie, he went outside jumping into his Jeep. When he finally pulled into the parking lot of the local grocery store he got out of his jeep and flipped out his list. Alright; he needed pasta, some ragout, meatballs and a few other items… 

The entire shopping trip went relatively smooth until he walked towards the meat section to find the meat balls and his face decided to become best friends with the floor. The reason for his fall was a large boot whose owner had apparently thought it would be hilarious if he made Stiles smack his face into the ground. The basket he had been holding was sent flying, scattering everything inside across the isle. Fixing his best glare on his face, Stiles sat up to face the person who tripped him.

"What the hell, man?!"

He had to tilt his head up to look at the man's face because, damn, was he huge. His at least 6'5 frame loomed over Stiles’ sitting and comparatively fragile one with a menacing glare pinning the smaller man to the floor. For a second, his eyes flashed blue... Well wasn't today going to be a bag of chips and then some…..Just his luck, seriously? Meeting a wolf in the supermarket? It wasfucking official he had the worst luck ever.

Struggling to his feet he did his best to look a little more impressive and a lot less scared. He'd done this a hundred times with the other wolves; it was like a Mexican standoff. He was just hoping Gigantor would back down.

Low and behold, he just stared at Stiles, smirked and then turned tail and strolled out the door leaving a very confused Stiles behind. More than a little freaked by the whole extremely random 'oh hey let's trip Stiles' thing so he decided to send Derek a text. Because, even if it was nothing, Derek should know that there is either a random omega running around or maybe even a pack. God, he so did not need another pack of murderous alphas, he could swear he still felt the bruises.

Stiles : just got knocked on my ass by a pissy little werewolf that I didn’t recognize

He only had to wait a minute or so as he dumped the packaged meat into his recovered basket and hurried to the checkout lines when he heard his phone beep from its home in the brunet's pocket.

Derek: get home now. I’ll be there in 20 minutes.

He was quick to follow Derek's advice/command as he practically flew through the checkout line. He tossed the grocery bags in the passenger seat and did his best to speed home, pushing the jeep to its limits. When he finally got home, there was no sign of Derek anywhere. Only his dad's cruiser was parked right in front of him. Jumping out of the car, he snagged the groceries with one of his hands while using the other to steady himself so he didn't land in an undignified heap on the driveway. Speed-walking towards the house he let a little bit of paranoia take over. He kept turning his head, searching for any sign indicating that Gigantor might have decided to follow him home.

When he didn’t see anything, he flipped his hood back and made to open the door when he realized it wasn't actually closed but standing a crack open. He had such a bad feeling about this… seriously, he felt like he was in some horror movie and someone was screaming, "NO! DON'T OPEN THE DOOR, ARE YOU STUPID?!" at the screen

But, like he did pretty much all the time much to the annoyance of... well everyone, he decided to ignore the voice of reason that sounded surprisingly like Scot, huh, who would have guessed. Anyway there was no noise coming from inside but the lights were on. He knew he should wait for Derek but, for God’s sakes, his dad was in there! So, putting what little there was left of his self preservation on the back burner, he cautiously nudged the door open with his sneaker. If he was lucky, he could get upstairs and grab the wolfsbane coated arrow Allison gave him as a gag gift a while back.

But then again he was never lucky, so he just inched past the opened door but kept his eye on the hallway leading into the living room. He could hear the faint murmur of the TV and relaxed a little bit before he walked past the kitchen and saw that the table was smashed in half. There was no way he could get upstairs, because, seriously, they were werewolves and probably heard his jeep coming a mile away. They knew he was here and they were waiting for him to come to them, so he guessed he would try to figure a way to get his dad out before Derek came to the rescue. He might as well buy himself some time. 

"Hey, Dad, you home?" he called out still walking towards the living room where he could have sworn he heard a chuckle but maybe that was just in his head because, honestly, at this point he was imagining Gigantor and his friends twirling their mustaches and giggling to themselves as they watched Stiles and the Sheriff get sawed in half while tied to their respective logs….  
He really needed to stop watching cartoons.

Turning the corner of his living room he was greeted with the sight of his dad tied to the chair, the Sheriff’s body limp and lifeless. The immediate thoughts of; oh, oh God, don't be dead died down as he saw the minute lift of his chest and Stiles forced himself to look closer. Besides a nasty looking bruise forming around his temple he looked ok for now. However, in the middle of the room stood Gigantor and a disturbingly larger man with murky brown eyes and a disgusting, untrimmed white blond beard to match the slightly darker crop of hair on his head. Stiles didn't have much time to notice anything else when Beard Boy started to talk with a slight smirk that twisted his face into highlighting a previously unnoticed scar that marred the side of his face with distorted tissue. 

"Well, if it isn't Little Red come home with his goodies," belatedly he realized he was still clutching the two paper bags in his hand. Seriously, the jerk wanted to be witty? All righty then, challenge accepted and smart ass mode activated.

"Oh, my Grandma! What a big head you have! What a gross beard you have, Grandma! Ever thought of shaving, you could borrow-"

His rant was cut off at he felt a very solid fist land a punch in his side, knocking him to his knees. After gathering his bearings in time to see his attacker stroll around him and join the other two in smirking at him. A beautiful woman with long dark chestnut hair met his gaze. She was dressed to the T in a silky-looking blue top and black leather pants that left absolutely nothing to imagination. The woman was looking just about as sinister as her bulky companions. Well, he might as well get this over with... he was sure his body was going to hate him for it later, but hey, he had to distract them somehow.

"So, big, bad wolves, are you going to huff and puff- wait, that's the wrong story, sorry, kiddies... now where was I… ah yes, I had a question; if you’re not going to gobble me right up, what is your dastardly plan?" None of them spoke. They all just looked mildly annoyed. Without warning the woman dashed forward, knocking him back once again but this time it was with a stiletto-encased foot.

"Hey, that wasn't nice! What, you can't tell me cat got your tongue?" She-devil just surged forward and grabbed his head, smashing his face into the ground hard, making him see stars and most definitely breaking his nose. When he finally picked up his head again, he witnessed Gigantor coming at him. That was when the real beating started and this time it was not just the woman, but Gigantor, too, who took his sweet time introducing his heavy boots to his ribs over and over again while he struggled to breathe under the assault. 

The beard guy, who was obviously the alpha barking out orders, kept snarling out charming things like, you’re allowed to have as much fun with him as you like, just try not to break him into too many pieces, eh? Comforting right?

At least, that was their plan until the shit storm that was an enraged Derek Hale busted through the door, completely wolfed out with his eyes glowing a luminescent red. Derek was everywhere at once, charging head on at the two that were still vehemently beating Stiles to a bloody pulp, tossing the evil chick back against the wall, cracking her head hard against the wall before doing away with Gigantor in one foul swoop. Derek stabbed him through the chest with his claws, twisting as he pulled out and forcing a very wet sounding cry out of the big man before his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed when Derek removed his hand.

Up until then he hadn't bothered to pay attention to anyone but Derek, but the sound of smashing glass startled him into looking around and seeing Isaac put the alpha creep through the window as Derek gave the she-devil one last kick before bounding after his beta.

God... why did everything hurt so freaking bad? His face had received a cut somewhere, making blood run into his eyes. He was positive he had a few ribs broken and maybe a sprained ankle. Trying to roll over to get to his dad, he saw that he had his eyes open, head lolling everytime he lifted it. When he finally did manage to move, he felt his arm scream in tremendous pain. Yup, definitely a broken arm not sure how he missed that one before...

Making his way to his feet, or rather foot, he did his best to hop over to his dad who was staring at him at him in a horrified but still groggy sort of way while constantly flicking his eyes over to the still unconscious she-devil. Stiles was pretty sure she was dead, otherwise she would already be up and tearing his throat out gleefully before chasing after her alpha. At least, he hoped she was dead. He could so not deal with her right now, considering the fact that he was hurt and black spots began to swarm his vision. He set to work untying the Sherriff hoping he was alright despite the minimal bruising.  
As soon as Stiles had managed to rip through the duct tape and untied the rope, he did his best to lower himself to the floor before his one good leg gave in. About a minute later his dad joined him on the floor, checking over every inch of him before he cautiously approached the still nameless she-wolf and presumably took her pulse, not even bothering with Gigantor who had bled out all over their carpet quite efficiently. When Stiles saw him grimace he knew she was dead, and to be honest, he didn’t really mind. What he minded was the fact that he couldn't hear anything anymore, and there was no sign of either Derek or Isaac anywhere. 

All of a sudden there was a gentle hand on his shoulder, and, for a fleeting second, he thought it might have been Derek. He was met with just a little bit of disappointment when he saw his dad, a shot gun at his feet and a cell phone in his hand, probably dialing 911. Stiles didn't have the energy to stop him, so he just went along with the blur of what was happening. A paramedic appeared in Stiles’ limited field of vision, quickly splinting his arm and his ankle, giving him a shot that sent pleasant numbing tingles throughout his body within a minute. Then he proceeded to carry Stiles bridal style to the ambulance strapping him in to drive off. All the while, Stiles was feeling less and less of the pain and more of the giddy sensation of the drug.

Trying to contain the absurd happiness that filled him when Derek jumped in the ambulance behind the Sheriff, Stiles snickered when Derek basically booted the paramedic into the front seat to take his place beside Stiles. Unable to help himself any longer any way all the little red riding hood jokes were bubbling on the edge of his tongue and wasn't sure if he wanted to hold them in any more even If his dad still didn‘t have a clue.

"Hey, Derek?" he paused long enough to get the werewolf's attention but not long enough for him to answer, "Hey, Derek, the Big Bad Wolf got me! Or should I say wolves?" 

A happy smile turned up the corner of his mouth as he giggled, wincing when his now taped ribs made themselves known. Completely oblivious to how Derek's face twisted into a horrified grimace, Stiles’ continued to smile when Derek reached out and gripped Stile's uninjured hand tightly in his own.

"No they didn’t. They didn't get you.... and there is no way I'm letting anyone ever get that close again whether you’re Little -freaking- Red Riding Hood or not I… I can't… I just, I.... you can't get hurt anymore Stiles, alright?" 

Even though Stiles was about as high as a kite on a windy day, he could still hear the hurt in the alpha’s voice, squeezing the older man's hand as hard as he could as a moment of lucidity came over him.

"Don't worry. I'll be fine as long as I have my own Big Bad Wolf to save me. Maybe I'll even get the dress"

He heard a slightly sinister chuckle from the back corner of the ambulance, Stiles didn’t even raise his head, he just pointed toward the laugh. 

“You, yeah you"  
" fuck you, Peter”  
Peter just laughed obviously too pleased with the mental image of Stiles in a little red outfit. Stiles would obviously rock it, but still Fuck him.


End file.
